The Sacking of Leitdorf Manor
by Raven272
Summary: A short story detailing the goings-on and the fate of the manor of Baron von Leitdorf, cousin to the Elector Count of Averland. Curious as to how good it is. If I feel like it, I might even continue it, it is far from finished right now. Disclaimer: Warhammer and everything related to it is owned by Games Workshop, definitely not by me.


**I**

The flames sprang back to life, starting to voraciously consume the log thrown into the embers, briefly casting the wizened old man's white beard in a blood red color, before he returned to his seat in the corner of the room. The room was a lavishly decorated study but that probably wouldn't have been apparent to anyone who hadn't already known. The dim light of a few candles placed on the small table in the corner and the massive desk in center of the room hardly sufficed to illuminate the faces of the three men present and the fire added more heat than light. The big wooden doors leading to the balcony were shut to keep the pouring rain out, although they did nothing to keep out the drumming of the raindrops on the roof.

As the old man sat down, his long brown robes rustling, the considerably younger man on the opposite side of the table leaned forward, twirling his long blond mustache. After a moment of consideration his face lighted up and he picked up one of the few pieces still left on the board between the two men and placed it down again in a different spot. His satisfied expression only lasted a heartbeat as his opponent started chuckling silently. "Well and that makes the game, I guess", he proclaimed and moved one of his pieces into a winning position causing the younger man to curse under his breath.

"Mind your language. If your father had heard that, he would have given you a stern beating, my boy.", the man sitting at the desk chimed in. The gray spots in his otherwise coal black, thick hair and neatly trimmed beard were barely visible in the gloom and he hardly glanced up from the piece of parchment he was reading.

"I am sorry my lord, I didn't mean to interrupt you.", the blond man replied sheepishly.

"Don't take it too hard, Kurt. By now I figured out that all Herr von Volk seeks to achieve with this overly long letter is to get me to agree to my Lise marrying his oaf of a son. Not while I still draw breath."

"Maybe you are dismissing this proposal too easily, my Lord.", the old man now joined the conversation.

"I think not, dear Johann. I met the boy at court in Averheim a few weeks ago. A bigger fool I have never seen."

"But still, the name von Volk carries considerable weight, especially in Middenheim. Not as much weight as the name Leitdorf, for sure, yet this marriage would go a long way to mending the many rifts separating the people of this great nation."

"And give my dearest cousin even more reasons to suspect just about anybody of treason and dallying with whatever enemy he wishes to see in the north. His paranoia gets worse by the day, I swear."

"As much as I hate agreeing with the old man, you have to admit that your daughter is reaching an age where it is time for her to find a suitable husband. If she is only half as stubborn as you though, you won't have a say in who that will be anyway.", Kurt added while resetting the board.

"All the more reason that she never meets the von Volk boy."

"Is that wise? Simply because you are cousin to the Elector Count of Averland doesn't mean you can just ignore every other noble this side of the World's Edge Mountains. If the Count's madness is really as bad as everyone fears, it might be better to have as many allies at court as possible."

"Quite to the contrary, Kurt. There are enough snakes whispering into my cousin's ears already, about how I desire his title for myself. And he is inclined to believe them, only for the fact that I was married to some distant relative of our beloved Emperor. Giving him the impression that I am gathering supporters for a coup is the last thing I should be doing. I haven't survived more battlefields than I care to remember, only to die in the field of politics. I will spend as much time as possible in this manor, raising my daughter and my two sons while staying out of trouble."

His tirade would have gone on, had it not been stopped by a loud commotion from the hallway, followed by a knock on the door.

"Sigmar's grace! What is it?", Baron Lukas Leitdorf exclaimed.

The door opened slightly and a clearly terrified servant poked his head through the gap. "Excuse me, my Lord, but you have a visitor."

"At this time? Give him a room in the guests' wing and tell him, I will receive him in the morning!", the Baron didn't even try to hide his irritation. In response the servant was pushed forward, causing the doors to fly wide open. The figure almost filling the frame was truly imposing. Over six feet tall, clad in full plate armor and a heavy cloak soaked by the rain, a massive war hammer strapped onto his back, his face and head cleanly shaven, showing first wrinkles of age and the scars of many battles.

"Your manners aren't what they used to be, that you would keep an old friend waiting!", the figure said, almost shouted, with a booming voice.

The Baron rose to his feet so swiftly that he toppled his chair backwards and rushed around his desk to embrace the newcomer.

"My dear Albrecht! How should I have known that it was you? I would have taken any bet you were out fighting for the glory of our good Lord Sigmar at this time of the year!"

"And I would be doing nothing less, were it up to me. Alas, I do not command armies so it seems the campaign season ended early for me."

"This sounds like a story I have to hear in great detail. Kurt, Johann, if you would be so kind to give us some privacy. And you", the Baron turned to the servant picking himself up from the floor. "You are fairly new to my estate, so you are excused this time. But remember for the future, if his Reverence, Albrecht Dorn, warrior priest of Sigmar, comes knocking at my door, he is to be brought to me immediately, no matter the circumstances. Now be a lad and fetch us some wine to make up for it."

A few moments later, the two old friends were sitting comfortably by the fireplace, lighting pipes.

"So tell me, what brings you to this quiet little corner of our most glorious Empire?", the Baron inquired.

"Not as quiet as you might think. Just yesterday, I helped chasing a herd of beastmen back into the woods. I would have followed them straight back to their holes, but the young general was so confident that they were frightened away for good and refused to order his men to do so. Hah, barely old enough to grow hair on his chest but leading an army already. Well, with all the new armies getting mustered by the Emperor now that he has tasted the glory of battle, it is no wonder that some of them are commanded by new officers."

"He might have been right, you know. The weather won't get any better with the turning of the seasons so close at hand. And pursuing a sizable herd of beasts into their own territory with rain pouring down like now is a decidedly bad idea."

"You have always been too reasonable for your own good. Something was not right there, I feel it in my bones, These curs cut tail way too quickly."

The two were interrupted by a brief knock and the door opening. In came a young girl of maybe sixteen years, carrying a tray with a flagon and two goblets.

"I bring the wine you requested, father. Is there anything else for me to do before I retire?"

"I don't remember ordering you to bring us wine, my dear."

"I ran into the servant and thought it would be polite to give my greetings to our honored guest."

The Baron quizzically raised one of his impressive eyebrows. "Well, as you please, but now it would be best you went to bed, there will be more time to talk to him tomorrow."

"As you please, father." The girl sat the tray down onto the table and hurried out of the room, glancing back over her shoulder one last time as she closed the door.

"Hah! Polite, that is priceless!", the Baron laughed as he poured some wine into the goblets. "That girl just wanted to get a glimpse of the legendary warrior, you have become in her mind. But you just wait until the boys hear that you arrived. Marcus won't give you a quiet minute until you told him every detail of every battle you ever fought in."

"Your daughter has grown quite a bit. The last time I saw her, she wasn't even as old as your sons are now."

"You don't visit often enough then, friend."  
"Someone has to slay all the fiends threatening our lands since you are content herding sheep these days, it seems."

"If only they were sheep, my troubles would be less. I have half a mind of marrying Lise to you."

"Assuming I weren't a priest and therefore could marry, I would still be old enough to be her father, if not even grandfather."

"Exactly my point! This young generation lacks the backbone we used to have in our youths, my friend. Comes from all that prosperity and not being invaded by Orcish hordes. My sons are a completely different matter of course."

"Of course.", the warrior priest smiled amused.

"But wait. Do you hear that?"

"I don't hear anything."

"Exactly! Seems like the bloody rain has finally stopped, let us go onto the balcony, I could use some fresh air."

Lukas put down his goblet and opened the wide doors, the cold night air, still wet, hitting him in the face like a wall of bricks.

"Ah! I am glad that I will never have to sleep in a tent again."

"It keeps the body sharp and hard like good steel."

"Then I prefer to become soft like a warm bed."

The two stepped outside, savoring the smell of fresh rain, momentarily lost in revery about old days. The balcony was in the second and topmost floor of the small manor house, overseeing the courtyard. To the left they could see the single level guest wing, to the right the stables. They couldn't see the small additions to the manor itself, where the servants lived, on the backside. The whole complex was surrounded by a sturdy wall, 8 feet high. There was little to be seen in the darkness of the night, except for the torches of the guards at the front gate, and the last glows of the smithy fire in the stables. No sound was to be heard except for the braying of sheep outside the walls.

Albrecht let out a heavy sigh.

"What's the matter old friend, your bones longing for a bed already after all?"

"I don't honestly know. Something feels odd, as if the storm is about to start instead of just having ended."

"You always have bad premonitions."

"No, this is different. Do the sheep sound odd to you?"

Lukas held his breath and listened intently.

"They seem to be agitated. Maybe there are wolves about?"

"Then the dogs would be barking too." The priest closed his eyes, only to have them snap wide open after several heartbeats. "Sigmar's grace! There are not only sheep! That sounds like goats, no, like beastmen!"

Lukas was alert without a moment's hesitation. "Beastmen? Are you certain?" Yes, now he heard it too. A sound that had haunted him for many years in his past. Braying, like goats, but with a faint atonality that made the hair on his neck stand on edge.

"Raise the alarm! Do you hear me? Beastmen are about! To arms!" The Baron shouted at the top of his lungs, gaining the attention of the guards on duty. As soon as the blast of the trumpet waking the manor had resided, the beastman answered with blowing their own horns. The attack had begun.


End file.
